


Erasing the Pain

by kiiori



Series: Thank You for Being by My Side [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, First Time, How do you tag???, I really needed the confidence boost :), I think it's kind of canon divergent but I'm not sure?, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It's kind of canon divergent, It's only one paragraph- hahaha, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, POV Third Person Omniscient, Thanks to Unicorn Anon for telling me you like my writing style, Viktor's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:45:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiiori/pseuds/kiiori
Summary: "He found that, with Yuuri, the wind would always carry the tides of the seasons, its purity leading to the indigo canvas in which pinpricks of light joined to tell their stories. He found that, with Yuuri, he could erase the pain; it being replaced with his love for the other."Because Viktor fell in love.   Rated mature over a single, very mild paragraph- teen and up otherwise





	

**Author's Note:**

> Right, okay, here we go.  
> Hello, everyone- I'm Nova. A couple of weeks ago (at least, I think it was a couple of weeks ago) I put out a post on Tumblr asking whether or not people would read a Viktor x Yuuri fanfiction written by me; the responses were much nicer than I ever expected so lo and behold, here I am.  
> This whole anime has ruined my life and I've already contributed through headcanons and fanart. Please don't get bored of me, hahaha, I know I'm here in the YOI fandom a lot.  
> Anyway, I digress. This is the first fanfiction I will be writing for this fandom so it probably won't be very good. Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Viktor knew that living meant making sacrifices, and he knew that those sacrifices were often ones that he wouldn't want to make. Even on the ice, the place where he was certain he was supposed to feel most at home, most comforted, his blades were tracing the thin lines of his remaining hope, the thin lines that seemed to only thin further with each moment passed. No matter how proudly the walls stood, robust as if rooted to the snow ridden earth beneath them, the crisp air still managed to find its way in through their little cracks and imperfections to bite icily at his exposed skin.

As Viktor's movements continued lazily, no real enthusiasm or dedication behind them, he couldn't help but feel as if the walls of the rink weren’t as dissimilar to the ones he had built himself as he had originally thought, the ones he had built up and up until maybe they did their job of self-preservation a little too well. How much longer could he deny it? The wind engulfed him, embracing him with its frosty arms and whispering with its glacial voice next to his ear for him to "live with his love," for they're all one and the same, people are. His heart was grieving and it cried out, pleaded, begged for salvation from this foreign misery. Who’d be the one to give it?

Frightening was the dull feeling that came paired with his fifth consecutive Grand Prix victory. Not even the slightest bit of joy was he experiencing, and it was in that moment that he knew his career as a professional skater was well past the point of being anything but at its resolute conclusion. Those thinning lines of hope were gone in their entirety, his reputation sure to soon depart with it. The saddened smile that appeared against his features was all he could muster as the cold gold glimmered underneath his colder fingers, and for what only he knew to be the last time, he stepped off the ice, not once looking back.

Makkachin sat on his feet, whimpering quietly. It was almost as if he could sense the heartache emitting from Viktor, and it seemed as if it had consumed him so to the point he couldn’t even hear the poodle. Makkachin patted Viktor’s leg in a somewhat forlorn manner, and Viktor, like he did at the touch of his medal, smiled sadly, bundling him into his arms and breathing words of gentle apology for not noticing him sooner. Even the reassuring licks to his fingertips from Makkachin weren’t enough to dilute the pain within, and Viktor couldn’t hold in the anguished sigh which would soon die on his lips. He reached over and took his phone within the hand Makkachin wasn’t occupied with, another sigh dissolving in the air as he saw the amount of notifications. Yakov, Yakov, Mila, Yakov, Mila again and ...Yuri? Yuri never texted him, they had only exchanged numbers as a formality and, in all honesty, he had been fairly sure Yuri deleted his instantly. Running a hand through Makkachin’s fur as if it were grounding him to this reality, Viktor opened the text and, without much thought at all, clicked the link enclosed. The first notes of the all too familiar melody played out, and with every second gone he sat up that little bit straighter, a fire fuelled by an unknown emotion burning deep within him. For the first time in what he’ll admit is too long, he smiled a genuine smile, turning to Makkachin and announcing their move to Japan. He had finally found it. He had found his salvation.

In the years beforehand, and, in what he had been sure would be a constant throughout his years in the future, the prior solace of the frigid lullaby, crooned with a false sense of security by the crystalline ice beneath his skates, seemed negligible in the attempt to ease the irrefutable throbs of Viktor’s reality. These throbs; they were less akin to pangs of torment; more analogous to a crushing desolation of his own inadequacies, each imperceptible demerit and trivial shortfall consuming his being until they were far from being eligible of holding the title of a mere inconsequentiality. They were physically destroying; haphazardly leaving his heart in a countless number of shards which sliced and severed at the thin layers of skin that protected his fragile ego. The unsettling feeling of a permanent displacement had lingered with him, of a permanent and irrevocable imperfection- those missing shards. He found himself wondering how much of his time left would pass before those fragments would mould back to their prior state, fearful that his memory would dissolve in its entirety before that indeed happened. But Yuuri, _Yuuri_ \- the love of his life, had appeared, searching the furthest corners of his being until, after months of gathering, of love and support, he could stand there, Viktor’s repaired heart sat in his cold-bitten hands, glowing with a brightness and warmth unlike any it had ever emanated. Yuuri was the owner of it, the compliment to it, the fuel to it; what made it burn with lost passion and fury. Yuuri… Yuuri was Viktor’s home, and no person, no thing, could take that away from him.

Before the realisation of Yuuri’s abilities, the abilities, the raw talents, that were even impressive to Viktor himself, Viktor would compare his own being to that of the ice he loved so passionately. Cold and frigid, his heart felt frozen within his chest, dusted with a veil of frost that lead to it constricting and throbbing; unable to beat properly; leaving his fingertips numb. The wings that he had wished for, the wings that would enable him to soar far from the misery that rooted him to cruel, cruel world beneath his feet; Viktor had never received them, believing that maybe skating was the only thing he would ever be good for, that skating was the only he would ever be blessed in. But then, the video- the  _ video _ ... it changed his life, flipping it like some wicked coin of fate that had been set on making him feel wretched and pathetic.  _ That  _ was how that routine was meant to look- alive and burning with the flames of raw passion- not how he himself had executed it- in masked apathy and left in the remnants of flames that once were. Seeing that performance was a triggering moment of fate, and as the water of the hot springs steamed and encircled him, as he stood in a flourish and announced his title of coach, as he watched the man of his inspirations dance on the ice that he had almost grown to hate, Viktor knew that he had been bestowed with the feathers of his song; no words could possibly articulate his gratitude.

Never is both an incredibly long and incredibly short time; with the growing wisdom of time Viktor had realised this. He had always regarded himself as one would never hold out a hand to another, to act as another person’s support: that all changed much quicker than ever anticipated. He found himself stretching,  _ pleading _ , knees scraping the roughened surface of his anxieties in attempts to desperately latch onto the other- a never that never should have been in the first place. As soon as he had grabbed on, he found himself never wanting to let go- the sparks of his appetite settling in his abdomen, willing to burst into flames in any given moment with the other- with Yuuri. By the hand that Yuuri had captured with his own, Viktor pulled him into his chest, holding him tightly as he embraced his everything, breaths of fondness soothing the turmoil of Yuuri’s innermost thoughts. It would be okay- Viktor knew this much- as long as they had each other. 

For neither of them was validation, nor was approval, needed from others. They had both built their walls, their barriers, so strongly so that no person could cave them inwards; not even a deity had the power to do so, yet they had unconsciously gravitated towards each other until they found their walls merging, until they had become one, and neither could mind. Viktor knew that Yuuri was his compliment, the person who could bring out the best in him and that he did the same for him, too- why throw that away over a matter as superficial as gender? Viktor didn’t need anyone or anything else other than Yuuri, and it had become his primary goal in life to make Yuuri feel the same way. As the sunlight rained down upon their interlocked hands, shining and basking them in its gentleness as it smiled sincerely, Viktor felt the same emotion from the other. He already had.

The late night’s moon shone brightly in the ink-like sky above, stars beaming dimly and their energy long dissipated. With closed eyes and calm breaths, Viktor’s arms embraced Yuuri’s waist, the latter fast asleep, Viktor lightly nuzzling the back of his head with his nose as he traced hearts onto the span of exposed skin on Yuuri’s hip, the action filled with adoration for the other. Even if Yuuri was resting peacefully, Viktor was enveloped by the tenderness of his warmth, by the tenderness of his affections. That tenderness was all Viktor would ever need, that and the giver of it himself. Viktor would never let go, and unseen by anyone, not even within a dream, he too fell asleep, a smile filled with his love gracing his features.

No doubt was it a haven that he and Yuuri had created together. Yuuri, with his gentle voice and equally gentle actions, taught him what true love was- that true love wasn’t a well defined or cleanly cut as he and been brought up to believe. Love is an emotion that is easily recognisable upon the first experience, they had said, and that it was between a man and woman; that any other “love” was not valid to be called the same. He consequently had a deep hatred for it- Viktor couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He had received something so precious, so irreplaceable… It was the thing Viktor cherished most in life; god forbid he let Yuuri fall through his fingers like he had with so many things before. The glow that Yuuri gave off when he smiled, the flush that radiated in his embarrassment: all those things which could have been negligible turned out to be so much more- it was beyond his vocabulary, English and Russian alike. He found that, with Yuuri, the wind would always carry the tides of the seasons, its purity leading to the indigo canvas in which pinpricks of light joined to tell their stories. He found that, with Yuuri, he could erase the pain; it being replaced with his love for the other.

There was all but one solitary answer to how much Viktor adored his protégé- not even that word, despite its honest tales, sat right with him. Yuuri was so much more to him than that, so much more than a simple mentee. Yuuri was the pale moonlight which pierced through his darkness, the quiet rain which fell in his desert and the soft melody that destroyed his silence. He was Viktor’s everything, and Viktor knew from the breathless words of love that the emotion was more than reciprocated. Phlegmatic stares from the outside world, seemingly able to wield the ability of mercilessly shattering every individual bone in his body, were hurled in his direction, ruthlessly unhinging him from the sanctuary he had created and throwing him back into the phobia-ridden society in which he was tenderly, or so they say, nurtured, as if they were trying to drown him in it once more; yet Viktor did not, nor could, bring himself to care for the pitifulness, fighting back- an open avowal to his hedonistic disposition on the matter of his beloved and others discarding him so. The love in which he felt for Yuuri overflowed from the chamber of his heart, a broken dam shattered by its power, coursing through his whole being and leaving him with a warm, fuzzy afterglow, addicted to the high, to the taste. With him who, with the softest of smiles and kindest of touches, believed in Viktor, Viktor was certain that they would continue to walk, hand in hand for however long it may take, to their future together, their bond, as if Polaris, guiding them with utmost devotion.

It was after their Grand Prix victory; Viktor lovingly caressed Yuuri’s palm with his thumb, pressing his lips to it delicately as the latter shifted until on his back underneath him. The sheets hung lowly on Viktor’s hips, concealing their actions from the outside world as the two began to explore one another for the first time. Yuuri ran a hand along Viktor’s chest and to his shoulders, where, out of a slight nervousness, he began to massage. Viktor smiled, covering the it with his own before linking them together and leaving a trail of reddened kiss marks across his path as he moved down. Yuuri squeezed, the action filled with his unsaid words of love, and with Viktor dotting gentle kisses in another trail, this time along his inner thigh, his sighs dissolved into the heated air around them. Yuuri softly carded his fingers through Viktor’s hair, and Viktor shuffled up, inching Yuuri’s legs apart as he met him in a loving kiss, breaking apart to edge inwards, slowly as to not hurt the other. He rubbed small and reassuring circles on the small of his back, hushing Yuuri as a single tear fell, kissing it away, and finally, after all this time, as he was engulfed in the warmth, he dearly kissed the other once more, no longer two bodies but one. Yuuri moaned quietly into his mouth, other arm looping around his neck as if to hold him in place- not that Viktor minded. His movements were tender in an indulgent kind of way, and he lovingly kissed away each pleasure-filled tear that stained his cheeks. Just seeing Yuuri like this, in a way that no one else had ever seen him, and, if he can help it, will ever see him, was enough for Viktor; the scrape of nails against his back and mewl of heightening volume as Yuuri hit his completion being all but icing on the cake.

Before the two met, Viktor had nothing, or at least, that’s how it had felt. Meeting Yuuri was the best thing to ever happen to him; he gave Viktor’s soul its pulse, gave Viktor’s soul the love it needed to survive. No words can truly express how dear he was to Viktor- Yuuri was the love of his life and there was no doubt of that fact, the clouds having dispersed at the brightening sun that was his lover. Still, with a gentle squeeze of their intertwined hands, fingers curling lovingly around one another’s, the glisten of a diamond engagement ring against the other’s finger, Viktor spoke, words a hushed whisper as no more than what was given was needed; a gentle kiss to the forehead and a never ending promise.

“Thank you for being by my side, любовь моя.”

**Author's Note:**

> Does the lack of speech make it difficult to read? I felt speech would get in the way so I didn't include it... please tell me what you think!
> 
> Is it bad to say that I've already started a parallel story from Yuuri's POV? Because I have, hahaha.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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